The Death of Persephone
by horologia
Summary: Edward was not reached in time to be saved at the end of New Moon. Ten years later, Bella has carved a mortal life for herself without the Cullens to guide her, but that is quickly coming to and end. A misadventure leads to an alternative to death, but is there enough left of the old Bella to sway the opinions of the Volturi in her favor.
1. Prologue

**Note: **I've been lurking in this pairing for some time. It's strange, how the story of Bella and Edward is one that I'm not particularly fond of, but I like to toy with the notion of our heroine with a three thousand-year-old, malevolent vampire in his place. This is my first attempt at Twilight as well as Bella/Aro, but I hope you'll come along for the ride with me.

Please note that the timeline is ten years after the events of _New Moon_. Alice failed to recognize that Bella lived, and Edward succeeded with his attempt. Although Aro would have gleaned from Edward about a mortal slip of a human girl, their mutual assumption that she was dead will have prevented the Volturi from looking for her. Bella is twenty-eight here and her journey is far from simple.

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

The sun is low, drawing golds and reds out of the gently sloped Midwestern surroundings, when Alice Cullen calls upon Bella Swan again. The spritely, youthful vampire, with her spiky dark hair and pale complexion is out of place here, in the dull suburbs of a fourth-rate city, and the grace so central to her being clashes so strongly against the solid, rounding lines of her aging friend that the reunion can only promise to be marred with regret.

Bella cannot say she is surprised by the unscheduled visit; however, she manages to express a vague amount of curiosity at the vampire's timing. Alice's gifts are impressive, but it was unlikely that she had kept them trained on Bella for the entirety of the last ten years.

Instead, she focuses on the faint metallic sounds of her keys as her fingers fold around them in her purse and tries to ignore the piteous amber gaze that greets her at her front porch,

"Hello, Alice."

Fleetingly, she wonders if her immortal friend can smell it. If decay has seeped into the floral scent that used to drive Edward to near madness when he had been alive to agonize over it, if that is what has led the prophetic Cullen literally to her front door. Or were other, more insidious plots at work against the fragile, failing mortal frame of her body. Although it had left her alone now for the greater portion of a decade, trouble always used to seem to find her

"Bella," voices as beatific as that shouldn't be possible in a setting like this, but vampires had always been beyond the lofty laws of mortals.

She had almost forgotten.

"Did you just now manage to find me, or have you known all along and just now decided to pop in?" Bella cannot prevent the tight thread of accusation from winding through her tone. Once, a long time ago, she had thought they might be sisters, but time and the neglect it brings had proven otherwise. She doesn't know what to do with this piece of her past standing so out of place within her present.

Something sheepish in the fluttering of Alice's brow gives her away before she confesses, "We've known."

"Well," Bella gestures absently to her small, insignificant home and the small, insignificant life it represents, and allows her young but maturing face to tighten in a terse smile, "Welcome to my normal life..."

_It's what he always wanted_, she leaves it unspoken, but the spite still bubbles under the surface. Edward Cullen had left her to this plot, had allowed her as a young woman to curl into herself and self destruct, and then, when he thought she had flung herself permanently into the abyss, he had thrown himself into the mercy of the Volturi. But the ancient coven had not been as generous with his life as the waves had been with hers. When the Cullens had sorrowfully informed her of this, the Olympic Clan had still upheld his wishes that she remain human, even though he was no longer there to enforce them.

They'd refused her any agency in the matter, and so she had left them and the foggy world of Forks behind her. Her journey since then had been simple and it had been dull. Four years of university, five of graduate school; her life should just now be starting, but sometimes that just isn't the case.

Bella turns from Alice, already wary of the memories her friend's presence has brought with her, and drags a ring of keys from her bag to unlock the faded blue front door. The day has been as long as it has been illuminating, and now all she wishes to do was lie down and deny that any of it has happened at all.

Alice is before her in a lazy blink of the eye; Bella's wry smile suggests that she had long ago moved beyond being so easily surprised by these tricks.

The vampire sniffs the air discretely and closes her eyes in a silent recognition of the nature of things, "You are dying."

"I have been," Bella argues softly, "Only, we mortals simply call it aging."

A flash of something, perhaps anger, briefly contorts Alice's patently kind features, "You are young still, Bella, but you are _dying_."

This time, Bella sighs but understands. Yes, yes she is.

Once, in the early days after Edward's death sentence had been sealed, Bella had dreamed of this. Of her own, withering decay well before advanced age. Had dreamed of the Cullens' pity and the culmination of all of her mistakes and losses in the single act of betrayal. By her own body no less.

Now, she's found herself on the cusp of mourning a future she will never have, the one she had put time and care and hard work into shaping for herself but would reap none of the benefits of, and there is no peace in that.

Bella holds open the door but does not look at her guest, "I guess you should come in."


	2. Part One

**Horologia's Note:** We'll get to Aro and his band of merry terror-makers in another chapter and a half. We haven't seen Bella in awhile, so we need to get to know her a little better before we have her running off to another continent because Horologia says so. Thank you for all of your interest in this so far. Oh, and keep your eyes out for the subtle shift in the writing style as things start making sense to our poor Bella (i.e. look for less emotional stuttering around, roughly, chapter three, until then, our heroine has a lot of things to take in and the style will reflect that).

* * *

**Part One**

* * *

There was a distance between them. One formed from far more than their time apart.

To the other patrons in the woefully overpriced cafe, they must have looked like an estranged aunt and niece scrambling for something – anything – to say to one another. _How is the weather? Grey. How have you been? Grey._ To the onlookers, Bella's weary and pinched expression was the distaste of an aging woman who resented the beauty of youth – particularly the youth perched on her hands on the chair opposite from her. Although that assessment was not entirely wrong, Bella tried not to envy the dead any more than she had to.

After all, weren't they all just perpetually young creatures with their lives forever on hold?

With Alice's unscheduled arrival the evening before, Bella had expected more than the awkward hovering that had occurred as she prepared her dinner, had expected a stilted conversation as she later pulled the stacks of poorly crafted essays from her bag and began a long evening of grading. By the time she'd turned on the news for white noise, Bella had realized that Alice was waiting for a _particular_ conversation.

She still was; there was too much to say, and nowhere good to start.

Instead of speaking, Bella savored the warm, acidic tang of her drink and paid close attention to the darkness of Alice's eyes as she watched. Her old friend was hungry. Something struck her then, the idea that perhaps in her own youth all of those years ago, she had failed to realize that Alice's hunger was for more than just blood. That maybe there were things about the human that the vampire had envied, or the latter would not have taken so easily to former's company.

"We're in nowhere, Illinois. There are plenty of deer," Bella reminded Alice for the third time that morning.

"I'll be fine," Alice insisted.

The sky was overcast and shifted tellingly with the wind. Although it was dark, Alice would not have agreed to the table near the window otherwise, and Bella was thankful for it. From her seat, she could could gaze lazily down the sidewalk and enjoy the degree of separation from the world that the glass pane afforded her. The people who passed her by out there did not expect her to speak to them in here, and she took advantage of this until her coffee grew cold.

When she turned her eyes back to her friend, Alice was still staring.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Bella sighed.

"You don't have to say anything."

Bella snorted, it was not an attractive sound, "Liar."

Alice cocked her head slowly, and Bella was briefly reminded of what a confused feline must look like as it considers its prey, "You've changed."

Despite her gifts, there were things Alice would never understand about mortality, and Bella would give anything to tell her this and have it make sense. How your family and friends so rarely stand unyieldingly by your side as you age and grew and carve out a place for yourself among others who are aging and growing and carving. How the loneliness only sinks deeper if you let it get away from you - if you forget that it, unlike happiness, does not need careful cultivation to grow large enough to consume you - until finally the connections that were once so central to your being have become nothing more than a lost footnote in it all. How, in all of this you are meant to change; how that, in the very least, is required of you.

As a mortal you are not allowed to stay young forever.

And Bella had only been playing her part.

Instead, she spoke about the more recent years of her life while trying to avoid the mistake of reaching too far back – there was no sense in revisiting that too-raw period that could still make her throat and jaw tense. It grew easier with each stuttered sentence because, while Bella wasn't sure if she wanted to consider them particularly close anymore, Alice's eye were still the same wide, kind orbs of curiosity that they had been when they had first become friends. Even when Bella reached the parts about the red herring symptoms and the fruitless doctors appointments that had plagued the last several months her year, it was all so simple to say because she had never had to tell anyone before - had not had time to grow weary of the questions and the sorry glances and the awkward shifting of people who didn't know how to talk to her or be around her anymore because they knew that there would be a foreseeable future without her in it. Renée and Charlie only knew the threadbare basics, only knew that Bella had not been well and that she had been looking into it; the chair of her committee and her long-time mentor only knew that her dissertation was still being written despite the 'minor' health disruptions, and that she planned to defend it in the fall.

Then Bella told Alice there would be no fall, and the latter's expression gave away that it was something she had already known.

"Your blood?" she asked when it came to it, and Bella had to stop herself from laughing at the fact that it only ever came back to that with these creatures.

"My ovaries," she corrected her.

Cancer, like aging, creeps up on you when you aren't looking. By the time you are it is often too late. For some it pays only a brief visit before leaving again, but for others it's there to stay - for weeks, for months, or even for a very few brief years. Bella said this all to Alice, or something very similar to it, believing that her friend had it in her to understand.

The thoughtful tilt of Alice's head suggested that perhaps she did.

"How do you feel today?"

"Normal."

This wasn't a lie. Bella had only learned of her diagnosis the week prior and the prognosis three hours before Alice had met her on her doorstep. She was ill, yes, dying even, and had only approximately five months to feel like it, but that didn't mean that she had to feel it at that moment.

(It might have made her feel better if she did feel it because then she wouldn't keep finding herself thinking about life three, four, five years down the line before remembering that planning for any sort of normal future was like dabbling in a fantasy).

It began to rain.

With quick little droplets against the glass, the storm managed to announce to anyone listening that it had better things to do and places to be and was just attempting to get on with it. It wasn't even gloomy, just functional and a little isolating, much like this city that still found itself situated among expansive corn, soy and wheat fields. Bella had come to tolerate Champaign, Illinois like she had never quite learned to tolerate Forks. Perhaps, on some level, this was because she had always known that it would happily send her on her way again when she was done with it.

But this cold, late winter storm – although it didn't quite want to be there – reminded her of the Northwest Pacific, of the dark, moody and forlorn teenage years she had spent there, and it finally dawned on her what Alice was here for.

"I can't go back with you," she blurted.

Alice frowned, as if not entirely pleased that she had been called out before she could properly explain herself, "You have to let Carlisle look at you."

"No. No, I really don't. I don't have to do anything."

"He knows more about oncology than most doctors in this region," the vampire argued.

That may have been true – Carlisle had enough time to keep up with the literature, after all – but Bella wasn't so easily fooled (or manipulated) as she had been as a young woman.

"Forks hardly has the equipment to treat the flu let alone Stage IV ovarian cancer, at least not compared to the hospitals in St. Louis or Minnesota. Carlisle's knowledge means nothing if he can't do anything with it."

Black and gold – but mostly black – eyes narrowed briefly as Alice flinched; she knew that it was the truth, "Bella. Please. I'm not trying to trick you, this isn't..."

Emotion seemed to render her words unspeakable, and Bella couldn't help but feel sympathetic even if she didn't particularly want to. _She_ was the one who was dying here, after all. But ten years was not a very long time for Alice's kind. To lose Edward and now her in such quick succession; Bella did not question the Cullen's familial devotion to her, she just couldn't help but question hers to them.

"It doesn't matter where you go," Alice finally confessed, "it all ends the same, but in Forks you can be around family."

After a brief pause she continued, "And I'm not just speaking of me, Bella. There's Charlie and Jacob, and Renée will be easily convinced to make the trip. I've seen it...if you stay here, you'll have your friends, your colleagues, but you won't have anyone who really loves you."

That stung, perhaps more than Alice had intended it to, but it was only because it was the truth. The last five years had been so good for her particularly because it had been easy to isolate herself from others in the world of academia. History, specifically. It was such an intensely and emotionally selfish line of work that she'd only had to share her thoughts on old primary documents and current politics to turn acquaintances into friends. Emotional concerns were quickly shuffled under the rug among the ranks of socially awkward intellectuals she had found herself in, simply because they didn't quite know what to do with them. Not really.

But this...this wasn't quite as easy as that.

"Alice, humans are not like vam..."

Bella remembered their setting, remembered that Alice's beauty may still be drawing attention to them, "you. _We_ don't leave relationships for years and return to them again like nothing has changed. _Everything_ has changed. I've made a conscious effort to move on, and you all...you all think you still know me, and _you_ might in some ways because you can see where my choices will lead me...but you don't. Not really. And you'd realize that if I went with you, and maybe you'd resent me for that too."

She was rambling now, but couldn't find the right sentence to end on, "And I haven't spoken to Jacob in years. He's changed too, I bet, and I don't want to show up and pretend that neither of us haven't, and then get to know him again and care about him again only to die. That isn't fair. You know that isn't fair."

"What about Charlie, Bella? Renée? They know you still, and they love you."

That was_ low._

"They could come here."

Bella's reasoning was as hollow as it was selfish. To ask her parents to set aside their lives, which they would unquestionably do, to travel across the nation only to watch her die, there would be no real comfort in that for them. They'd have no friends of their own, no one who loved them to hold their hands when the moment happened or before it or after it or whenever they needed it really. She'd be asking them to experience the same deep isolation that she would experience, but she'd be asking them to do it without the comfort of knowing that there would be an end to it eventually (sooner rather than later).

And just because the Cullens wanted her back in Forks didn't mean she would be going for them.

As if Alice could see the changing mood on Bella's face, the vampire leaned forward, "We could leave today, if you wanted to. You could tell your father in person, so he doesn't have to hear it over the phone."

Now, she was being manipulated, but that didn't mean there wasn't a whole lot of truth in what Alice was getting at.

Still, Bella clenched her jaw and took a deep, steadying breath, "No."

Alice deflated, "..."

"Not now. I can't just pick up and leave; that wouldn't be right. Give me a couple of days, a week maybe. I need time to settle the paperwork with my committee and with the landlord. I'll have to pack my things and put them into storage so that my parents won't have to...later. And I'll have to meet with my doctors here, have my medical records transferred. The right way. People need to know that I'm leaving, and they need to know why."

Bella needed to leave a trail, needed the paperwork to remind her that she had been here, at least, if only for a short while.

She also needed more time to pretend that her life really could have been normal, if only she had tried a little harder.

"_I_ have to do this," she added, not wanting to wake up in the morning to discover that one or all of the Cullen's had settled it in her sleep.

Alice nodded. Although her eyes looked lighter, it was clear that even though she had won this battle, there was nothing there to smile about.

They left the cafe quickly after, Bella feeling that she had already shared too much or herself with Alice to be comfortable in her presence for very much longer. She didn't dislike her (no one could dislike Alice). It was just that, before today, Bella had thought that she would have been able to move on from that part of her life, that she _had_ moved on from that part of her life. Ten years was a long time.

After driving Alice back to her rental, Bella made the short commute to the University of Illinois campus, where she had a class to teach in the early afternoon and several, heavy conversations to have with her dissertation committee members before then. With the volume turned up on a station Alice had chosen, some local PBS-university collaboration, she stared, completely immobile, out of her windshield while trying to make sense of the morning, the evening prior, and what was happening to her.

The Cullens (or Alice, at least) knew that she was going to die. They knew before either of her parents did, and they had probably known the instant Bella had received the prognosis from her doctor, maybe even before. For some reason, they wanted her to return to Forks, this was in part because of Charlie and Renée (who wasn't there, but who could get their easily), but having her near her family and old friends was probably, definitely not their only motivation.

Did they intend to change her? Now? After so many years? Even though Edward's intentions had always been to let her age naturally and die the same way? Perhaps, but it was doubtful that they would go against his wishes now, even if she was going out naturally a little ahead of schedule. But...

If they asked her if she wanted it, Bella wasn't sure how she'd answer.

Immortality was great, but if she felt this lonely and listless as a mortal, she wasn't sure how she'd manage to spend the rest of eternity. Edward was dead, and love had not been easy since then...and she was getting ahead of herself...she had to die first, and before that, she had to park.

Someone honked; Bella swore. She'd turned the wrong way down one of the campus' lots, and was now facing a disgruntled student in a far-too-expensive SUV that looked like it could take on her sedan without much effort, but she was closer to the only empty space in a sea of cars than they were.

With an apologetic shrug, she took it, hoping that her tires wouldn't be slashed when she made it back later.

When the driver, a young male with a short cut, honked again and threw his hands in the air in frustration as she got out and shut her door, Bella gave another shrug and a wave before darting to one of the main walkways. Gregory Hall, the brick building that housed two-thirds of her three-man dissertation committee, was only a five minute stride from where she had parked, and by the time the youth she had just upset found a spot, she'd already be warming off in one of her colleague's offices.

Bella passed an all too familiar face on the walk, Meghan from the fourth-year cohort, coming from the direction where she was going. After waving, she shoved her hands into her coat pocket before calling out, "Do you know if Alan is in?"

"Weir? Yup. His office hours just began," Meghan had the attitude of a 1970s ultraliberal and the attire of a librarian who always looked, for some unknown reason, like someone who only ever chose to dress entirely in the dark. Her winter coat was tweed, and Bella had become convinced in the last four years that the rest of her was too.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You coming to John and Amy's later?" Meghan began walking again, but this time backward so that she could continue the conversation.

Bella remained firmly in place, not wishing to tempt fate with her brand of coordination; she twisted her torso instead, "Uh. No. I forgot they were having dinner. I...uh...have other things to do tonight. And a friend's in town, picky eating habits, so...yeah."

"Shit. I bet your friend's a vegan. All right. Just send them a text or something. Amy wants to know how much food to order."

"Yep."

Meghan had already turned, and Bella kept her parting wave to herself. She made the rest of the walk to Gregory Hall with a miserable expression on her face, freshly aware that her life was being interrupted in some irreparable way, and walked heavily up the two flights of steps to Alan Weir's office. As her dissertation committee chair, he was perhaps the most important human being on the campus. At least to her. Which made the coming conversation one of the most important one's she would have in her life by extension.

Bella was nervous, but she wasn't afraid.

Alan had always been kind to her, encouraging even, but not in a suggestive way. It had been as if he'd spotted something brilliant in her intellect and had wanted to make sure it was grown properly, pruned regularly but not cut down. He cared in some odd, distant way about her life and where she would go with it, but had been unobtrusive and friendly in all of his inquiries. Like he was developing a relationship with a colleague he might like to have one day, not a student.

When she had first gone to him about feeling unwell (a painfully stilted conversation over a cup of coffee at the student union) he had been blank but understanding, as if he wouldn't worry about her until she gave him a name to go with what was making her listless, thin, and pale, but that he'd trust what she was saying to him because she'd given him no other reason in her time as a graduate student not to.

That blankness and lack of judgement had made it easy to discuss things with him - easier, rather, as she didn't want to burden him with her awkward symptoms and frustrations with the healthcare system. He'd given her his ear often in the last months, and now Bella was hovering on the threshold of his office as he spoke to an undergraduate, fidgeting like she was a nervous child as his eyes flitting between the girl that sat in one of her chairs and her, and she almost wanted to cry but couldn't bring herself to because he was showing several small signs of his own distress, as if her diagnosis and prognosis were written all over her face for the rest of the world to see if they only looked closely enough.

"Miss Crawel...Sarah," Alan often saved first names for his good students; Bella felt worse for interrupting, "I don't want to chase you out, but I think something's happened that needs my attention."

The young woman, twenty by the fading roundness of her face, looked put off but not upset, "I'll just email you the outline? I-I need an A on this, because of my midterm grade and..."

"Yes, an email will be fine. I'll look at it today, even, and give you feedback. With the effort you've been giving, you'll do fine. I know the midterm was just a mistake. We all make them," Alan was good with the neurotic types, since he himself and many of his research assistants fit the profile. Reassurance was sometimes all they needed, once, twice, and even thrice just to be sure it had settled in properly and wasn't going anywhere.

"Thanks, Dr. Weir," Sarah stood and shuffled past Bella with a nod of faint recognition, as if she remembered her as a teaching assistant from a previous semester. It was entirely possible, "Miss Swan."

"Sorry for interrupting."

"Oh no, it's alright," Sarah adjusted her bag with a slight frown, clearly sensing something was off about the older woman and caring in that lateral way that strangers sometimes do, before trotting down the hall.

"On a scale from A to F, how bad was her midterm, really?" Bella asked as she hesitated further into the office, valiantly attempting to beat around the bush before having to trod gracelessly through it.

How does one start a conversation with someone as good as a boss about dying?

"_Really_? Mid-range B," there was amusement and fondness there, "Sometimes I catch myself wishing that I had a room full of students that worry about getting anything lower than an A, but then I'm reminded of the horrors of grade inflation and, really, do I actually want that many stressed out twenty-year-olds biting their fingernails down to their knuckles in my office?"

He succeeded at breaking the tension where she had not, and Bella sat with a faint, omph, deciding to get it out in one go.

"I have to leave the program, Alan."

"That bad?"

It was very much jest and yet it wasn't. Something in her demeanor had told him exactly where this conversation was going, and he was reluctant to follow her there.

"They say I'll be lucky if I get five months out of this. We found it too late to operate and," she pointed to her midriff, obscenely embarrassed to mention her ovaries out loud to a man, particularly one with whom she'd had a five year professional relationship with no less, but she'd started this and was damn well going to finish it, "It's spread. The cancer, that is."

A pause and then she breathed heavily, "I have cancer."

_I have cancer._

Sharing it with someone alive, someone who had had conversations with her about her health in the past that wasn't a medical professional made it a little too real. Tears stung the corners of Bella's eyes, but she managed to keep them from falling. How was she going to be able to say this to her mother or her father without curling up on the floor if she could barely keep herself together in front of someone she was fond of but didn't love?

Alan blinked and several muscles tightened in his face, like he was preventing himself from saying some worn out, empty platitude. You can't apologize for things like this, even if you really were _sorry_ it was happening.

The pen he had been fiddling with stilled as he nodded just once, "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing. _Nothing_. I just need to know what paperwork to fill out and..."

"Bella..."

"...and who to get in contact with at the graduate school..."

"Bella," more sternly this time

"We'll have to let the rest of the committee know. Preferably by the end of the week, and..."

"_Bella_."

"_What_?"

His brown eyes were serious, a rarity, and that was enough to snap her mouth shut.

Alan leaned forward in his chair, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he folded his hands together, "I don't think you should be wasting time on formalities, especially ones that have been designed to make someone else's life easier. I've had enough students attrit from the program for...lesser reasons...over the years that I know who to contact."

"I have a class..." her voice broke. The graded essays were sitting on her coffee table at home.

"You had a class," that came out wrong, and by the way he briefly squeezed his eyes shut afterward and shoved a hand through his mostly gray hair, Alan knew it.

Softly, he added, "Would you like to tell your students?"

"No. I think it would be less awkward for everyone if I didn't."

"I'll do it, then."

"Uh...is there..."

"I'll need notification from your doctor. I believe you, but this administration is like a machine. You know that."

"Yeah...yeah," Bella considered standing, not entirely sure if she was being dismissed. Was this a permanent goodbye, or would she see him again before she left?

She settled on standing; sometimes natural farewells, even between people who liked one another, weren't meant to be, "I'll fax you the paperwork?"

Alan understood; she was leaving for good, "Give the main office your forwarding address?"

"Yeah. Okay." She breathed through her nostrils; her throat felt too tight.

"Okay," she repeated.

"How long will you be in town?" he was standing now too; it was becoming all too clear that neither were the sort comfortable with handling other people's emotions.

"Today's Tuesday? I don't know, I'll probably leave Sunday, Monday at the latest. I have to get to Washington, and I'd prefer driving over flying," Bella was rambling again, and had to take another deep breath to calm herself.

"Will everything be ready by then?"

"Yes. No. Probably not. Whatever I can't fit into storage I'll set out. These college kids will take anything," she tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a wheeze.

Alan nodded, and they both fell silent.

He sighed then, and gestured blindly to a photo of his only son on the desk. The boy was perpetually a teenager, like Edward had been, but there'd been no Carlisle there to give him immortality during the car crash that took his life. She'd heard of the story from a student in the year before her, how Alan had taken a full year of sabbatical after the accident, and how everyone had been surprised when he had not only returned but had returned with the same cheerful air as before. That had only been a couple of years before she had attended college; she'd done the math once, one night when she'd been feeling particularly morbid, and had come to the conclusion that Alan's son would have probably been close to her age now if he had lived.

They had never discussed it; he had never even alluded to it until now.

"You don't get used to this," Alan said, mostly to himself.

The _way_ he said this made his treatment of her make a little more sense now, but it also didn't. It highlighted the sort of emotional void that had hovered between them all these years despite the support and the understanding. One that was filling up quickly now with the sadness of two people who were close enough hurt at the thought of the other disappearing entirely, but not close enough to be able to tell each other why.

Bella pressed the back of her hand against her cheek to keep herself from crying and hugged her mentor goodbye.

* * *

**End note:** And there you have it; Bella Swan had a life without Edward Cullen. Next time, I'll see you in Forks.

On a brief, serious aside, some of you may know what it feels like to tell or be told by someone about an illness as serious as cancer. I've been on both sides; it gets a little more heartbreaking each time. No one really knows what to say or how to say it, and I hope I conveyed that well here.


	3. Part Two

**Horologia's Note:** Things speed up after this chapter (in the sense that Aro makes an appearance in part three, finally). Until then, we get a small dose of Forks and some of the changes that have occurred since Bella was a teen.

* * *

**Part Two**

* * *

At approximately two o'clock on a sleepy, Saturday morning, Bella arrived in Forks.

Although a fair number of Styrofoam cups littered the floor on the passenger side of her sedan (some still carrying the remnants of burnt gas station coffee), a subtle exhaustion had befallen her in the hours before. The thirty-four hour drive had been broken into four days of roughly nine hour shifts, with eye-strain and mental fatigue having settled in only after the second day. All of this after nearly a full week of packing and organizing and giving awkward goodbyes had left Bella eager to sleep until Sunday afternoon.

A brief phone call with Charlie on the previous Wednesday had left her certain that he would not be back in town until Monday. According to him, a small wave of killings in the Port Angeles region had prompted the gathering of local and state police into a single conference to discuss the details, which he had sighed at and called a sad waste because, "This is the same thing that happened several years ago, and we still don't know who was doing it." This had been followed by a, "I'm going to enjoy my retirement" as if he were trying to convince them both of that.

During the call, Bella had left all mentions of her health out of the conversation; instead telling him that she herself had a job talk in Seattle, and that, since her program did not completely frown upon its fifth year Ph.D students completing their dissertations from a distance, she be staying in Forks for the foreseeable future. It was a terrible lie, one that he would have easily been able to see through if they'd been speaking in person rather than over the phone, but he'd accepted it with as good of cheer that Charlie could muster and with the reassurance that her old room wasn't entirely uninhabitable.

Now, she sat parked in front of his house, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the thrum of her car's heater. In the three years since her last visit, there had only been subtle changes to the exterior, one of which had been a security light (which had flickered to life as she'd pulled into the drive). Bella knew the inside would be much more different, since he'd purportedly finally found himself a lady friend since then. Charlie had assured Bella that Carrie had her own house, but Bella knew just how desperately the interior of her father's house had cried out for someone with any sort of eye for design to save it.

Feelings of nostalgia (not all of which were bad) kept her in the vehicle for a couple of minutes longer than necessary. She tried to remember everything as it had been when she had last seen in. Her bedroom had been converted into a guest room - although the thought of Charlie having guests over was almost laughable - and the kitchen had been redone with the help of some of the La Push boys. Sam had been there when she made the comment about how much better it all looked, and had shot her a cheeky grin she would not have otherwise thought him capable of giving.

Bella sighed now, having since realized that the Alpha's improved mood then had been because of the Cullen's departure from Forks, and exited her car.

Cold wind rendered her coat useless, and she only spent as much time as necessary grabbing a small overnight bag from the backseat before racing to the front door (only stumbling once on the way). The rest of her belongings could wait until she'd had a good meal, shower, and sleep.

By the time she was through the front door, her teeth were chattering and her body was trembling. The winter weather here was nowhere as bad as the plains of Illinois and the wind chill that came with it got at this time of year, but cold was cold, and Bella was relieved when it became clear that Charlie had left the heat on for her.

Bella deposited her bag by the couch (the _same_ couch from her high school days; she shook her head with an amused snort, with a muttered, "Charlie? Really?") and removed her coat.

In the kitchen, she found a note on the table:

_Bella,_

_Went shopping._

_Food is in the pantry. You didn't tell me Wednesday if you were on a certain diet or not. Assuming not. Milk, bread and eggs are fresh. No pizza. _

She turned the corners of her mouth down thoughtfully. Some things _did _change.

_Carrie will be by Sunday to help if you need it. Her number is on the fridge._

_Dad_

Bella slid a finger over the last word and smiled sadly. He'd started making an effort in the last several years to replace "Charlie" with "dad" or "at least, _father_, if you still want to be formal" but it hadn't quite stuck yet. All those years of being raised by a mother who preferred her first name had created a habit hard to break.

The note fluttered slowly back to the table. She wasn't starving, but four days of gas station snacks and roadside, chain diners had left her feeling disgusting and bloated. A small meal of real-enough food might go a long way in making her feel better about the last several days, or at least go a long way in helping her pretend that she felt better about the last several days.

Carrie's number _was _on the fridge, written on one of those small whiteboard magnets that were more of a hassle than they were worth. Bella had never met this woman in person, but the barely updated social media pages her father ineptly kept had had several pictures of the two of them together. Charlie looked happy with her, and Carrie had even mailed Bella a birthday card the year previous, with a small note (not in Charlie's handwriting) about how she was looking forward to meeting her in the future and a much needed gift card to Starbucks.

At least she made the effort, right?

The winner of her excursion into the fridge was a tupperware container full of fresh looking chicken salad. Bella retrieved the bread from the pantry as well as a knife and set down to make the sandwich, her mind on rush of the wind against the roof and the forlorn little feeling that she didn't know what she was doing there at her father's kitchen table at nearly three in the morning, alone, making dinner, and dying.

"I should email Renée," she said to the chicken salad.

It gave her no insight in return.

"Or call her, something, I don't know," she took a too-large bite and chewed lazily. It tasted good, like nothing Charlie could ever make, but went down dry.

Ten hours later, Bella awoke on the couch, not quite remembering how she got there in the first place. There was a dull ache behind her left eye and a sharper one in her lower abdomen, and instead of focusing on either of those, she smacked her dry lips together and squinted toward the living room window. A vaguely-familiar television movie filled the silence in the room, the volume set low, and Bella's half-eaten sandwich sat on the side table.

Getting up was difficult, like her limbs had happily adjusted to being sprawled out on Charlie's ancient couch, and Bella all but fell to the floor when she tried.

"Ugh."

She lounged where she landed for approximately ten minutes, watching the television with marked disinterest, before forcing herself to stand. Bella could think of no words to describe the bone-weariness she felt; she only knew that all of the days of driving and all the days that had led to the driving were the cause of it.

After finding her phone in the pocket of her coat, she checked the time and cringed. It was past one in the afternoon. There were no messages waiting for her, so she slid the phone into the pocket of the jeans she had slept in and ambled around looking for things that would help her feel human again. Charlie's house was clean and even had new paint, but little had changed, at least not enough interest her. Bella eventually found her way back into the kitchen, where she located the coffee supplies and put an entire pot on.

Thirty minutes later she was showered, dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, and standing on the threshold of her old room with a vacant expression on her face and a fresh mug of coffee in her hand.

Much of the changes made had been tasteful - beige on three of the walls and a deep brown on the last (Carrie's doing, most likely) and a matching scheme through the curtains, rug, and bedspread. She liked that it had changed since her teenage days, leaving little indication of any time she had spent there, alone or with Edward. There was a new dresser and a armoire, both stained a dark brown. Her old rocking chair remained situated near the window and on it sat a folded quilt - both were out of place in this otherwise well decorated room. Bella imagined Charlie having a rare moment of sentimentality and Carrie allowing him to.

It was beautiful, and while Bella didn't want to spend the rest of her life there, she knew that she could.

A solid knock at the front door caused her to jump just slightly but enough still to slosh her drink over her hand. Bella let out a soft cry of pain before uttering a light but terse "Dammit" as she dabbed at the coffee with her own sleeve.

"One moment!" she called out, doubtful that her visitor (very likely one of Charlie's friends or even Carrie being needlessly polite) could hear her, but there was no other knock.

Careful not to spill more, Bella took the stairs slowly and set the mug down before she reached the door. When she looked out to see who was there, she was thankful for her own foresight.

From what Alice had divulged during her short visit, most of the Cullen coven had not returned to Forks in nearly five years. While they had settled there again after Edward's death, largely in part to prevent the 'trouble' (as they had called it) from migrating there from Seattle, their lack of physical aging had eventually driven them away again. Carlisle and Esme had been able to stay much longer than their 'children' but even they, after so much time had passed, could not explain their youthful features to those critical of them.

This, of course, had meant that Alice's initial attempts to bait Bella to Forks had been based on a lie, a poor one at that. Carlisle no longer worked at the local hospital; he hadn't for nearly half a decade.

But this did not stop him from being the visitor outside of her door.

Bella was thankful that there was no sun to reflect off of the snow _or_ the vampire that stood patiently outside of her door, as she did not want to add 'blind' to her list of current ailments.

"Carlisle?"

The smile he gave her was small but achingly beautiful. The same as Alice's had been when she, herself, showed up unannounced on Bella's front porch in Illinois. However, this time she was not hit with anger at having her life interrupted by her past at such a fragile moment but with pain.

With a twist of emotional vertigo, she realized that she looked nearly older than him now.

He must have sensed her discontent and perhaps even the cause of it, as he stepped only slightly closer and spoke softly, with his unparalleled brand of compassion, "Bella, it is lovely to see you again, if not a surprise."

"Didn't Alice...?"

"Yesterday," his lips quirked with bemusement and sadness, as if some small secret had finally been revealed to him, "I'm afraid she knows things that we do not and doesn't want to share them yet."

A soft but still bitter gust of wind pushed past Bella into the house. Reluctantly, with a telling shiver, she held open the door so that he could step in, "No sense in standing out there, someone might drive by and actually recognize the back of your head."

If he found any flaws in her logic, Carlisle did not say so. Instead, he followed the unspoken command that she had given him and stepped into Charlie's house. He was such a stranger _here_, in this normal entryway, that Bella found herself suffering a small bout of anxiety. Did things have to progress this quickly? Couldn't she have had more time to settle in and try to explain things to her family before she had to face the Cullens one-by-one or in bulk.

"You just got in," he stated, rather than asked, as his thoughtful golden eyes began it take in what was around him.

Bella took up her coffee mug again and shrugged, "This morning."

"Would you like me to come back?"

That thoughtfulness made her thaw a little, and Bella sighed while shaking her head in defeat, "I honestly don't know why you're here, Carlisle."

He gave her a rueful smile and slowly removed the scarf he had unnecessarily worn, "Until a week ago, I was in Toronto. I received two phone calls then, one from an old friend in Europe and the other from Alice. Both requested my presence here."

Without thinking, Bella took his scarf and coat from him, juggling the articles of clothing and her mug in trembling hands. Finally, she managed to hang them on the coat rack, and led him further into Charlie's house. As difficult as it had been to see Alice again and as weird as it was to be entertaining Carlisle without any notice, she still cared about the Cullens, on some fundamental level. It was good to be in his company again. Strange. Not under the best circumstances. But nice.

"Will you be the only one, then?"

They took seats, Bella on the tired-looking couch and Carlisle in one of Charlie's more comfortable armchairs. Neither settled in much - where Bella slouched over her cooling mug of coffee, Carlisle leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. Immaculately dressed as always, his clothes barely seemed to wrinkle with the effort.

"Esme and Alice are at the house. We retained our ownership despite the move. Emmett and Jasper were already in the area when I received my phone calls, but Rosalie will not be arriving until later."

_If at all, _it was implied.

"Oh," was all Bella had to say.

"It has been a short decade," he responded to the flatness in her tone, "and I fear that our Rose has a long way to go before she forgives herself for the troubles she has caused."

"Or me," muttered Bella.

"I suspect one day she will understand that you, least of all, are to blame for Edward's actions," there was a sweet sort of ache in his voice, the same one that had been there all those years ago when he'd returned to tell her of his adopted son's fate. Devastated but resigned.

They had all known that Edward's happiness would have only been fleeting at best, such was his disposition.

"But I did not come here to speak of this," Carlisle continued, "or only this. Alice has told me that you are ill."

With a sudden stab of bitterness, Bella wondered just how many more people she would have to explain this to before her parents. Or how many people Alice would tell, as if Bella's body was not her own property with its own secrets to protect. The anger faded as quickly as it came, driven away by the curious look in his eyes.

"Did she tell you what it was?"

"I didn't know until I got here. Although she told me it was terminal," he confessed.

Bella swallowed thickly, "I don't know why you're here. You're a great doctor, but not even you can fix this."

_You won't_, the accusation was there, because the only option she had to spare her life was one that Carlisle had long ago promised never to do.

"For several reasons," his gold eyes caught the light from one of the lamps and sparkled as he look, very briefly, at anything but her. "We would like to be here for you, even if you ask us to do so at a distance."

They would _have_ to care at a distance, as they could not risk Charlie's suspicion at their collective failure to age.

"Esme and I would also like to help you pay for your treatment."

"What if I decide not to," Bella couldn't keep the belligerence out of her tone. It was as if they had made all of these decisions for her without her own input.

Carlisle sighed, "I would like for you to; it will give you more time."

"But I'll be miserable," she countered, "I've done the research. Chemo? Poison? For the chance of what, an extra month or two of waiting for the end."

"But you will still be largely able," he countered, "As someone who has had centuries of experience with medicine, I must admit that I was thinking of your parents in that regard. They'll be comforted by any determination you make to fight this illness, even if it may ultimately be futile, and you yourself may eventually be grateful for whatever time you can add."

Bella felt the telltale tension in her jaw and cheeks, the sort that precluded the inevitable introduction of tears into a conversation, and accused, "How can you be so rational about this?"

There was a softening of his marble features as he sat there considering her words. Eventually, when she had turned her face away from him to collect herself, Carlisle reached across the distance between them and removed one of her hands from the mug she cradled and held it within both of his. His unnaturally cold skin made her shiver, but she did not pull away.

"I forget sometimes how patronizing we may seem. You have changed," he explained, "you are now older and wiser in the ways of humanity than any of my children were when I turned them. I'm sorry if I forgot that you might now want to make your own decisions, and that you, more than most, might know what will comfort you and your parents during this time."

Tears did prick her eyes, "I know what would comfort me, but none of you would grant it."

"Please don't ask it of us."

"You've done it before. For Edward," her throat was tightening again, and she tried to pull her hand from his, "I don't want to die. Why did you come here if you were only going to let me?"

Carlisle reluctantly released her, attempting to hide his growing distress at the way in which this conversation had turned so quickly, "Because we all love you, Bella."

"Not enough," she cried softly.

They were words she had wanted to say to them ten years ago but had held in because they, too, were grieving over the loss of Edward. As angry as she had been then, she could not with good conscience dig their wounds deeper. But she was desperate now, hardly coming to terms to what was going to happen to her in the coming months, afraid of what would be waiting for her in that future where cancer would take her life. And he sat there so serenely, as if the loss of her life, even if terrible, would be better than philosophical dilemma her turning would create. They should have just sent Rosalie to remind her of what they could not do, at least then Bella would not have felt so betrayed.

And not for the first time, she found herself hating Edward for leaving them all this way.

The pained expression that flitted across his perfect features went unnoticed by the crying woman; Carlisle had lived long enough to know that it would take more than words to make her believe otherwise.

Bella sniffed, and wiped carefully at her eyes, "You should go. I need to unpack my things, and I'd rather do that before it gets dark out."

Carlisle stood and gracefully did not point out that, despite the winter, there were still several hours of daylight.

"Will you come see us?" he asked instead.

"I don't know," she confessed, and then added, "I'm sorry. I'm tired."

He did not patronize her by acknowledging that she had just had a very hard week; instead, he gave her thin shoulder a single, fatherly squeeze before disappearing with a small rush of air.

Bella looked to where he had been standing, bit her lips, and dropped her face into one of her hands.

When Carrie arrived just before noon the next morning, bundled in a thick wool coat, hat, scarf and gloves, Bella took one look at her as she came through the front door and knew that they would easily get alone. Perhaps it had been because the blue eyes that peeked out from behind all the layers keeping her warm were deep but playful, a levity that stood sharply in contrast with Bella's miserable mood, or perhaps it was because the older woman wasted no time in pulling her into a solid hug.

Bella, still dressed in a pair of flannel pants and a loose t-shirt, had stood there unsure how to return the gesture.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," Carrie said quickly, her accent distinctly Tennessean (Bella wondered what had brought her all the way out here, to the North Pacific), as she removed all of the layers that prevented Bella from getting a good look at her.

"You too. Charlie really loves you," Bella paused, unsure of why she had said that, but shrugged eventually and added, "I hope he's told you, and that I didn't spoil the surprise."

Carrie laughed, pulling her hat from her hair to reveal a head of strawberry blonde curls. Bella guessed her age around forty, although she looked like she might be a couple years younger. If she used dye, it was well done.

"Nope. No surprise, but thanks for saying it. Your father likes to mince his words."

Bella found herself smiling fondly in agreement, "Only the emotional ones."

They moved out of the entryway and into the kitchen, where Bella had been trying to figure out what to have for brunch when Carrie had first arrived. Over the usual introductory small talk ("How was the drive" "I'd rather retake my prelims than make it again" and "I've been trying to convince your father to take a trip to Illinois" "You aren't missing anything; it's just corn"), the pair settled about pulling various foods from the fridge to make a larger breakfast than Bella had originally intended.

As Carrie poked at the frying bacon and kept an eye on one of the omelettes, her face screwing up in an intense look of concentration, Bella peered out toward the drive. Even through the heavy fog, she could see that her little car with its navy blue paint was now firmly white, hidden beneath two inches of snow.

"Do you live in town?"

"The woods, actually."

The bacon grease popped, and Carrie hissed, "Ow."

"Do you need help?"

"Wanna make the toast?"

Bella stood and began to dig into the pantry, "Wheat or white?"

"Wheat. White bread tastes like air. Your father says you are almost done writing your dissertation?"

Bella pulled out two pieces of bread, looked at Carrie's solid but slight form, and decided that four might be better, "Uh. Yeah. I have a chapter and a half left."

"Could I even hope to understand what you're writing it on?" Carrie set the plate of bacon on the table and covered it with several paper towels to soak up the grease.

"The Ostrogoths' absorption into the Lombards and their vision of the Kingdom of Italy," Bella watched as Carrie playfully scrunched her nose and smirked, "Don't mind me, I'm just being pretentious."

"Academics," Carrie grumbled before starting on the second omelette, "I used to love the old Roman and Greek mythologies, but I found their history to be a little less fantastic."

"Too many invasions and wars?"

"All that fighting gets boring to read about," Carrie admitted, "I failed my history of Italy course. Okay. I didn't fail; I got a C."

"Oh? What did you study?"

"Mathematics, actually. But I eventually went into Environmental Law. I used to work out of Seattle, but I got tired of the city. Moved here a couple of years ago and took up a consulting position. I like it. Rustic."

Smart, stable, independent, and she _liked_ Forks. Bella chuckled softly as she waited for the toast to pop; Charlie finally found a good one.

As they settled down to eat their breakfast, Carrie taking point in the conversation, seemingly well-practiced at keeping discussions flowing without allowing them to teeter into territories where they might fizzle out, Bella came to realize that the blonde's mood was contagious. The depression Carlisle had left her in had already begun to fade, as if his visit had only been a particularly strong dream.

"So you're going to finish your dissertation here, then?"

Bella was busy chewing and could only nod, wondering briefly how long she was going to be be able to keep up this lie before the guilt made her confess everything.

Carrie laughed and took a sip of her coffee, "Sorry. Shouldn't make you talk when you're trying to eat."

"S'okay," Bella said around some eggs, "You're the one supposed to impress me."

They shared a snicker.

"It makes sense, though, if you're waiting to hear back from one of the colleges in Seattle. Teaching or research."

"Research."

Another twenty minutes passed as they chatted amiably about Bella's future plans. Carrie knew enough about the process, having gone to Law School, to keep up her end. And finally, when they had exhausted that conversation, Bella grabbed their empty plates to set in the sink, "I should probably shower. If I know Charlie, he's told more than just you that I'm back in town."

"Yep. All of La Push knows you're here by now."

Bella groaned, "Great."

"I'm going shopping this afternoon, if you'd like to get out of the house and avoid a few of your old friends. I know how that is. Couldn't look the ones I grew up with high school in the eyes once I turned thirty; it's why I took the job out here."

"I should probably actually make a few calls after I shower. Renée will want to know I'm settling in, and I have a colleague back in Illinois who would probably like to hear that I'm still alive."

"That's all right. Did you need anything while I'm out? I'll only charge you fifteen percent interest instead of my usual fifty."

"Yes! I love Sunday sales. Real shampoo?"

"Did your dad leave you only his manly Suave?"

"I smell like a masculine ocean breeze," Bella tugged on the front of her shirt, as if to disperse the odour.

"I wondered why I kept wanting to call you Charlie over breakfast."

"That's okay; easy mistake."

"It's the beard."

"Wait. Charlie has a _beard_?!"

"I gave him an ultimatum, lose the moustache or round it out with a beard."

Bella rubbed the smooth skin of her face and feigned a frown, "Guess I'll have to shave then. Can't have people confusing us."

Carrie's laugh was deep and hearty, and wafted up the stairs as Bella went to take her shower. She didn't feel dirty or smell, but she needed an excuse to get away from her father's girlfriend. Not because she couldn't stand her, but because she liked to her too much. If she spent anymore time in her company, Bella _knew_ that she would eventually crack and tell her the truth.

_Hello. I'm your boyfriend's daughter. Nice to finally meet you, and oh, by the way, I'm dying_.

It had a terrible ring to it.

After she had spent a suitable amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin, Bella dressed for the day and towel dried her hair. A quick check of her phone told her that Renée had already tried calling twice and had even left a message. She sent her a quick text,

_"Busy. Call you later_."

A notice in the corner of the phone's screen also indicated that Alan had emailed her the night before. Bella checked that as she cleaned her ears, and made a mental note to respond later, when she had enough time to look through the attachments he had sent. They would all need to be printed, signed and faxed back to the history department's main office, and his email assured her that there was no real rush.

Carrie had already gone to do her shopping, but had left a note for Bella on the counter:

"_Expect Billy Black's boy at around two. He called while you were in the shower. I told you you should have come shopping._

_I forgot to tell you that Charlie called this morning. He'll be home on Tuesday. Something's come up with the case in Port Angeles." _

Bella reread the note and took a deep, steadying breath. First Carlisle and now Jacob. Would they all be stopping by to remind her of how wonderfully awful the past had been this weekend, or would she at least get another day or so to prepare herself for the ghost of Victoria and her just-as-dead lover.

She checked the clock and her eyes widened, "Shit."

And then a "Shitshitshit," when she heard a car door slam.

"_Really_," she hissed, tossing the towel up the stairs as she hurriedly ran her fingers through her tangled hair and got another whiff of what her father's head must smell like these days.

Just as she managed to convince her wet locks to behave, there was a rushed knock from the front of the house.

Bella walked quickly to the door and gave it a good yank, coming face to chest with someone she had not seen since she was twenty-four, "Jacob?"

His strong brow was bisected with an old scar, one that had been there the last time she saw him, but there was another now near his temple. His mouth, imprinted in her memory as having an perpetual playful smile, was still full but turned down. She wanted her heart to lurch at the sight of him, desperately wanted to be flooded with fond memories, but there was nothing. Sometimes too much time has past.

Bella took a step back and tried to get a good look at his eyes.

"Uh," she added, "good to see you."

"Yeah," his gaze was darting swiftly around the place, and he looked a little disturbed by something, "about that. You should probably come with me. Now."

"Excuse me, but I don't think that that's a good way to say hello back..."

"Hello. I'm fine. How are you? Looking great but not doing good at all," his face contorted briefly in what looked like pain, "But we'll talk about your health later, when you _aren't_ surrounded by vampires, but for now you need to get in my truck," he had reached out to grab her arm; it was gentle and his touch was hot.

Bella let herself be dragged a couple of feet before she held up her hands in protest, "Whoa whoa. Before you kidnap a girl on the grounds that she's surrounded by the undead - by the way, were you aware that the Cullens are back in town and that this is a serious overreaction? - let her grab her coat and shoes first."

This seemed to mollify him enough to allow her to shove her feet into her boots and pull her coat from the rack by the door. As she was zipping it up and desperately thinking of a way of arguing herself out of this nonsense, Bella paused, "Wait. My _health_. How do you _know _about that?"

The contrite expression that met her glare reminded her of the Jacob she used to know, way back when she had been able to pretend that they would be best friends forever.

He pointed to his nose, and she nearly _growled_ in her frustration, "I've had enough of people sniffing me and knowing that I'm _dying_ before I even have the chance to ask them about the weather."

"I can't help it. Wait. You've had other people sniff you?"

"The Cullens," she snapped, "I just told you they were here. Aren't you overreacting a little? They've never posed a threat to my life, and you know it. It's been ten years, haven't you gotten over it already?"

This time, when he began to lead her from the house, it was with a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You didn't look into the news before you decided to come back, did you?"

"No," she admitted, "but nothing ever happens in Forks, so..."

The look he shot her suggested that she _should_ have read the heck out of the news before she decided to roll in, "Your own father is in Port Angeles trying to help with a futile investigation on a serial killer who is actually a pack of hungry newborn vampires, and you want to tell me that nothing ever happens here?"

"Well, technically, Port Angeles isn't Forks, so..."

Jacob actually laughed, and looked for a moment like he might have really missed her all of these years and wasn't just here out of fading obligation to her father, "Still stubborn I s..."

But he didn't finish the statement; instead, he raised his nose just slightly to catch the breeze and swore softly beneath his breath, "I'm too late."

"What do you mean."

"Bella. Jacob. Hello!"

They both turned to see Alice grinning broadly at them from her place on Bella's car. The snow that had been there this morning was gone now, likely cleared off by the vampire herself. At their shocked expressions, she laughed - it was the musical sound Bella remembered it to be, but had not heard last week in Illinois - and slid off of the hood.

"What's going on?" Bella asked of both of her supernatural companions.

Jacob was eyeing Alice with a loathing that had not faded over the years, but he was slowly removing his hand from Bella's shoulder and taking a small step back, "The treaty is what is going on. Bella, if you choose to come with me, we can protect you in La Push, but you have to choose. I can't just take you."

"Protect me from what? The newborns in Port Angeles?"

She looked to Alice, "Are they coming for me? Why would they come for _me_. I haven't been here long enough to attract trouble. That's just completely unreasonable."

Alice shook her head slowly and shot a reproachful but understanding glance at Jacob. She didn't blame the shape-shifter for caring, she just thought he should have gone about it better, "You're safe from them, Bella. I promise."

The vampire looked to Jacob and repeated the sentiment, "The newborns began moving this way in the morning; Carlisle's been on their trail since yesterday, but he has help, and they should be able to divert them away from Forks."

"_There are newborns on their way here!_" Bella shrieked, "Why hasn't anyone told me before today? Carlisle was here yesterday; he should have at least warned me that a fucking flock of hungry, non-vegetarian vampires were hunting in the region! Are you all trying to kill me _before_ I die."

Jacob's glare softened as his eyes moved away from Alice and landed on Bella, "I didn't know you were here until I called Carrie. Your dad told my dad that you were going to be staying with him for awhile, but I thought you'd wait until he got back from his conference."

"Carlisle didn't want to worry you further," Alice explained.

"Well a load of good that did. Consider me worried further," Bella began to pull on her hair in frustration, growing more irritated when she realized that it was beginning to freeze in solid clumps, "Can we take this inside, or do you two want to fight over me out here."

"I'd really rather we leave, actually," Jacob confessed.

"Bella can come with me," Alice said to him before turning to address Bella herself, "We can take your car. If at any point you want to leave, you can do so. I won't stop you. But I'd rather you feel safe right now, and Esme _has _been hoping to see you."

_Esme_, Bella's anger receded just a little, "How is she doing?"

"Now," Jacob grunted, "Is not the time for small talk."

"Yeah. I got that when you started dragging me from my house. _Without _my boots on."

"That was silly," Alice frowned, "were you trying to freeze her?"

"No," he grumbled under his breath, "I was trying to get her out of here before you showed up."

Alice didn't seem to take it personally, "Well, I'm here now, and Bella has a choice to make. She can stay here, go with you, or come with me."

"Wait. Do I actually get to stay here?"

The dead-eyed look both of her old friends leveled on her suggested just how seriously they took that option.

"Weeeeell," Bella took a deep breath, doing her best not to lose her temper again. Being treated like a child was something that she'd hated as a child. As someone two years away from being thirty, that hatred had grown into a full-blown complex, "The Cullens all know that I'm nearing my expiration date, and you do too now, Jacob, but I'd like the number of people aware that I have cancer to remain at a bare minimum before Renée and Charlie find out. You know, just to be polite, since they are my parents after all."

"You're going with her," Jacob said flatly.

"Don't take it personally," Bella responded somewhat dryly, "We can catch up over coffee when I'm finished not being killed tonight."

He grumbled something she didn't catch and finally shook his head in resignation, "Yeah. Call me."

To Alice, he added, "If she dies, I'm coming after you. For Charlie."

The vampire looked as though she took him seriously; Bella wondered idly if she had seen a vision in which this scenario might actually occur.

Before she could say anything else to the shape-shifter, he had bounded over to his truck and had climbed in, shooting her only one last parting glance before starting the engine and driving away.

Bella waved.

When he had disappeared beyond the tree line, she looked warily to Alice, "You think you could have told me about all of this last week?"

"It wasn't supposed to be a problem."

"I'll only come with you if you promise to stop showing up unannounced. I have a cell phone, and I'm pretty sure you've gleaned the number."

"Deal," Alice said too quickly and held out her hand, "I'd like to drive. It's very foggy."

After making sure that her reluctance was all over her body language, Bella climbed into the passenger side of her vehicle, avoiding the coffee cups with her feet, and stared directly out of the windshield as Alice climbed in. She felt as if she were in high school once more, unable to make her own decisions or drive her own car.

"Just to be clear, I'm not blind. I can drive in the fog."

Alice chuckled as she started the engine, "I know I said that you are in no danger here, but I'd like to get home quickly all the same. It will make me feel better."

Bella refused to talk for the rest of the short drive. It had been years since a vampire drove her anywhere, and it was jarring how much faith she had lost in their ability not to crash while taking turns at ungodly speeds. When they finally came to a stop in the clearing before the Cullen's large, modern house, Bella darted her eyes to Alice and tried to give a surreptitious sigh of relief.

But that sigh died in her throat; Alice's golden eyes were glued to the door of the house, and she was far too tense for Bella's liking. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a startled Esme and a moment after that, a solemn Carlisle, whose gaze seemed to be boring a hole of betrayal into the smooth skin of Alice's forehead.

"Whatever happens," Alice whispered, "Stay close to me."

"I don't know...what...wait. _Stay close to you? _You can't be serious?"

Alice pushed open her door and after only a brief hesitation, Bella did the same, scrambling out of the car with her telltale lack of coordination.

"_What_ is going on here?" she said softly, certain that they all heard her.

"Alice, I don't understand" Esme's eyes were filled with sadness, as if she were trying very hard to make sense of her daughter's actions.

"Don't understand _what_?" Bella's heart rate had begun to race.

Something seriously wrong was going on here.

"You had no right," Carlisle had moved only a short distance closer, and was regarding Alice with reproach. Faster than Bella's eyes could compensate for, his head snapped to the right as if he heard movement from the woods, "No."

"I'm sorry," he said to Bella at last, "I didn't know Alice would do this."

"You weren't going to _do _anything," Alice spoke at last, and when Bella looked to her, the young vampire's hands were clenched at her sides, "and you weren't going to allow me to do anything either. We can't just let her _die_."

"You've as good as killed her," Carlisle snapped, for once looking like the creature he was.

"No, I haven't. I've seen it. This will all be fine. Trust me."

To Bella, she pleaded, her gold eyes wide and sad, "Trust me."

Bella wanted to, just to make that look go away.

"I don't know what's going on here," Bella said helplessly, "Why can't any of you ever make sense?"

All three vampire's looked quickly to the edge of the clearing by the house, and Esme grabbed her husband's arm to still him. Whatever was coming had driven them to this argument but had not startled them enough to make them crouch down in defense. Bella realized then that it was something that they already knew wouldn't hurt them but would very likely take a bite out of her.

Two cloaked figures stepped from between the dying trees, followed by another two at their sides. Tiny, the pair was dwarfed by their companions but led them regardless.

Bella stepped backward toward Alice and stumbled.

"A human?" a reedy, female voice filled the silence as two snow-white hands lifted to push back one of the short figure's hoods.

Bella found herself staring into the sadistic red eyes of a vampire that looked no older than thirteen, and her courage failed her where her words did not. When Alice told her she would be safe here, she must have been functioning under a very loose definition of 'safe'.

"_Seriously_!?"

* * *

**Endnote:** Sometimes life is so obscenely crappy that humor tries to lighten the mood. Sometimes, humor should mind its own business.


	4. Part Three

**Horologia's Note:** Hello again. Apologies for the tardiness of this post. I've been busy graduating from college and trying to line up plans for the summer and fall (someone here is trying to get to grad school and hasn't got enough money yet to make the move). So that's what I've been up to. This chapter is a bit of a rough draft, but I wanted to post it for you to read before I disappear for a round of doctor's appointments this week. I'll be cleaning it up over the next couple of days in my spare time, so please be patient with the errors. They will be found, and they will be corrected!

All speed ahead...and we're off into the surreal world of vampires.

* * *

**Part Three**

* * *

Three hoods were pushed back to reveal another three pairs of perturbing red eyes, all set within the faces of young, perfect looking men. If Bella weren't frantically coming to terms with the fact that she had no reasonable escape route on foot and that the person with her car keys had seemingly planned this, she'd have made a blithe comment on how needlessly dramatic these new vampires were being.

The fog was really no help to her either.

Bella had nothing more to say; there was only so much that her life could do to flip itself on its head. She wasn't about to actively assist it in the matter.

"We took care of the last newborn," the female vampire spoke to Carlisle in a conversational tone, as if the last ten seconds had been entirely inconsequential to her.

The way Esme's eyes and posture remained on edge suggest that Bella's presence was still a very serious matter.

"Thank you, Jane."

"Aro and Caius will not forget your assistance," Jane continued as if Carlisle had not spoken.

Although it had been quite some time since those names had first been spoken aloud in Bella's presence, she needed no assistance in remembering the significance behind them. They, along with a third, Marcus, had condemned Edward to death for the crime of exposing himself to sunlight in the crowded square of Volterra. Their faces, suspended in Bella's memories as a painting on one of the Cullen's walls, had been frequent visitors to her dreams in the first three years of her college career.

It took very little mental arithmetic for her to guess that the four vampires at the edge of the clearing belonged to the Volturi's coven, and now they, for better or for certainly worse, were each aware that she, very much a human, knew that vampires existed.

And not just _any_ vampires but _them._

Carlisle was saying something, but Bella could not hear what it was over the rush of blood in her ears as Jane's unnatural gaze returned to her. The vampire beside her, who could be and likely _was_ her twin, was whispering very lightly into her ear. Jane's eyes narrowed briefly at what he was saying, and then she glared – quite harshly – at Bella.

A moment later, the female vampire blinked rapidly, as if to disguise confusion, and turned entirely toward Carlisle and Esme, "The human, what is her purpose here?"

"Certainly not payment for all of our hard work," the larger of the two tall Volturi vampires drawled, his nose scrunching in a show of distaste, as if he had smelled something particularly foul, "Unless you were hoping to offend us."

"No," Carlisle spoke slowly, his eyes flicking to Bella very briefly and then back again before he continued, "No, I'm afraid that's not how we work, Felix."

"I am not quite sure how you work," said Jane's twin.

This was unnecessary, Bella thought, the vampiric equivalence of playing with one's food before taking the tiniest of nibbles out of it. She wasn't mindless or incapable of reading body language and subtext. No one had to spell this out for her before she could understand what the Volturi were going to insist be done to her. The Cullen's had already done that for her years ago. They had given her the briefest crash course on the laws of their world, and that knowledge had been solidified quite nicely with Edward's execution.

She briefly questioned the probability of her living long enough to hear Jacob tell her that he'd told her so.

"You know we..."

The rest of Carlisle's sentences was interrupted by the appearances of Jasper and Emmett beside Alice and Bella. They had not made enough sound to alert her to their approach _until_ they'd already arrived, but the other vampires had all stopped their conversation long enough to give to two newcomers a proper stare down, and while Emmett appeared to be shocked by the congregation, Jasper was busy whispering directly into Alice.

"Bella? What are you doing here?" The large, typically-jovial Cullen looked between her and his parents and then the Volturi and frowned deeply, "I don't understand what's going on, but I can say that I already don't like it."

Bella gave a soft, desperate laugh, "_You_? _I_ don't like it."

Emmett grunted his understanding, "You look good, otherwise. You know, despite the..."

"_Don't_. _Say. It._"

"Right. Sorry."

"Not your fault," Bella mumbled.

"Are we done here," Jane's distinct voice drew everyone's attention back to the situation at hand, "or would you two like to continue wasting our time?"

For a very brief moment, Bella considered responding in kind, but a fair bit of self-preservation and a general loss for words prevented her from doing anything more than opening her mouth and then snapping it shut again. She settled instead for a disaffected shrug, perfectly aware that they could all probably smell her anxiety anyway.

"Good," Jane continued.

It was as if there were a thin line of tension strung between each if the vampires, and within each passing, silent second it grew tighter. The endgame was, of course, that it would eventually snap and something quite remarkably terrible would occur in front of the Cullen's home. Bella even suspected that that something horrible would result in some form of death for her (the sort with crunching bones and blood, if Jane's glare was any indication). But that tension began to unwind, as if some outside force were quietly reversing the strain and demanding that everyone just stand at ease.

A quick glance in Jasper's direction told Bella that he was responsible; the usually pensive vampire winked discretely at her while his mate began to address everyone present. First, Alice spoke to Carlisle and Esme, her tone deferetual but not apologetic,

"This is a bit unorthodox, I know, but I was running out of viable options, and neither of you were going to let me do anything."

Before they could respond, Alice turned to Jane, "I think you know who she is."

Jane's lips formed a terse, thin line but she gave a single nod, "I was uncertain at first, until I realized she was immune to my skills, and her name was spoken. Is this the _one_ your brother killed himself over?"

To Bella, it seemed as if the female Volturi was unable to speak to any of them without lacing her words with an overtone of disinterest and an undertone of disdain. The vampire could be centuries old, for all that Bella knew, but her manner was nothing short of a bored, rich and spoilt teenager who had been given more responsibilities than any adult could know what to deal with. Regardless of this assessment, Jane's delivery hit its mark and each of the Cullen's tensed.

Without really meaning to, Bella blurted, "That was rude."

"Who told you you could speak?" One of the Volturi males inquired; Bella still did not know his name, but she was certain that he was a bit lower on the pecking order than at least two of the others, and so she had no problem rolling her eyes at him.

No amount of fear was going to prevent Bella from having something to say about that, "Who told you that _you_ have any control over me? I'm not a vampire, and I'm certainly not under the laws of the Volturi. The worst you could do is kill me, and I'm pretty sure that we _all_ know why threatening _that_ won't get you very far."

When Alice looked back at her, her perfectly sculpted brow arched in inquiry, Bella straightened her coat and cleared her throat, "I'm an adult, and I deserve to be treated like one. Which means that, if you are all going to talk about me and determine the execution method, you might as well include me in on the conversation. I'd, uh, like to pretend that I have a say, you know, for posterity's sake."

Emmett clapped her on the back then, very likely proud of her speech, and Bella stumbled forward, "Er. Thanks, Emmett."

"I've seen the future, Bella," Alice spoke softly, "whether you live or die isn't their decision."

Jane's expression darkened, "I maintain the right to oversee her punishment."

At this, Carlisle interrupted, "I think, Jane, that both you and I know Aro far better than to believe that what you've said is true."

"It would be easier to ask his forgiveness," she said loftily.

"I suppose so," Carlisle's tone was thoughtful now, and he took a few steps closer to the group, "But how many years, decades even, would it take for him to fully grant you that? Bella has a gift, you've witnessed it yourself, and there will be no hiding that from him once you return."

"She's dying anyway."

"_She's_ right _here,_" Bella snapped, "and she'd really appreciate it if people with a superior sense of smell would stop announcing her impending doom to each other."

Under her breath, she added, "You'd think they'd learn manners after a few hundred years."

Felix chuckled, but it was the most unfriendly laugh Bella had heard in years, and opened his mouth to speak. Carlisle interrupted whatever the large vampire was preparing to say by addressing Jane's twin,

"Alec, you've been silent long enough. Your sister cannot make this judgement without your input. What will it be?"

When the youngest looking male vampire responded, it was not to Carlisle. Instead, he tilted his head slowly, gazed directly at Bella and did what most had failed to do, spoke to her in a tone that was not patronizing but refreshingly frank, "You are fortunate, Ms. Swann, that my sister enjoys playing with her food before eating it. If not, you're neck would have been snapped minutes ago."

"Uh. Thanks."

"You have known our secret far too long for us to overlook the fact that, contrary to what has been believed for ten years, you are still alive. So, yes, while you are not bound to follow our laws, you are still subject to them. Therefore, you're options are few. If you choose to remain here, we have no other recourse than to kill you, and there will be nothing for Aro to forgive. If you choose to come with us, I can guarantee that you will remain alive long enough to plead your case before our Lords."

Alec folded his hands securely behind his back, ignoring his sister's thunderous glare as he did so, and addressed Carlisle, "Does this satisfy you?"

"I would have been happier if Alice had not brought her here, but under the current circumstances, yes. I believe you are being quite just."

"Very well," Alec bowed and turned to his sister, "Jane, I believe it has been settled to all of our satisfaction. I leave the rest to you."

Still glowering, the blonde vampire lifted her chin into the air and peered down her nose at the Cullens, "Fine. Demetri, collect the human. Felix, restrain Alice and bring her with us."

"What!?" Esme stepped forward, "No!"

The Cullen matriarch fell to her knees with a scream of pain, and Carlisle's eyes grew dark as he looked from his wife to Jane, "Enough!"

"Stop!" Alice cried, "I'll go willingly, just stop it!"

Esme's screams ended, and she slumped forward bonelessly before slowly gathering herself to her feet. When she had regained her composure fully, Alice continued to speak to her parents and then to her mate, "Someone must be tried for keeping Bella from them. I've gotten us all into this mess; it should be me."

Bella who was so thoroughly confused by what had just transpired and so thoroughly uncertain of what was happening to her life right now, was still able to understand that, no matter how hard she demanded it, she wasn't going to get a choice in this. So, she raised her hand and waved it until nine pairs of eyes finally had enough grace to focus on her.

"If I agree to go willingly as well, can you not have Demetri collect me?"

Alec and Jane shared a conflicting glance; the former eventually nodded.

"Great. Thanks."

Bella was firmly _not_ speaking to Alice by the time they had gathered her belongings from Charlie's house (after additional arguing with the Volturi about how a police officer was unlikely to overlook the disappearance of his visiting adult daughter, and how he was best friends with the entire La Push wolf pack), left a note explaining how she had to return to Illinois for some obscure problem with the University that couldn't be solved through the internet, and boarded the Volturi's private jet in Seattle.

Just because Bella wasn't speaking to the only friendly vampire in the flock did not mean that Alice was not speaking to her, her usually melodious voice terse and urgent, as if their exceptionally long flight would not be long enough for Bella to learn everything she needed to know about the Volturi coven and its Lords.

In between her uncomfortable ten minute naps and the infrequent check ups from Felix and Demetri to make sure that both Alice and Bella were still in place (as if they would be able to leap from the moving jet with ease), Bella learned the names of the major players within the coven and their skills. Jane had, for instance, been the one to administer the terrible pain to Esme with nothing more than a glare and a few pointed thoughts, while Alec had kept his ability to deprive others of their senses to himself.

Nine years of schooling had allowed Bella to cultivate something of an eidetic memory, but when the plane finally landed at its destination and Alice officially ended her crash-course on the vampire royalty, she was convinced that at least sixty-percent of the information hadn't stuck as it should have.

If only someone had had enough foresight to make her flash cards.

Through all of this, in never failed to leave Bella's mind that they were travelling toward what had been Edward's last destination. That in less than a day's time, she would meet the men responsible for his death and likely find herself sharing a similar fate. That, if there was one thing not even Alice had to explain to her about the Volturi, it was that they were the antithesis of the Cullen's. They did not pretend to be human, they did not apologize for their nature, and they would judge her harshly for hers.

There was no digesting this or coming to terms with it; there had simply been no time to. It was as if Bella had been swept away in some terribly inconvenient nightmare that was trying to cram two weeks of tragedy into a mere eight hours of sleep. Pieces of her life seemed to be going missing around, the meaning of her actions was beginning to unravel, her control over it had all been forfeited, and now there were monsters around her as well as inside of her, which made Volterra and all of its ancient splendor and shadows ugly to her.

She couldn't afford anymore bad news.

It was nearing a moonless dusk and slightly cloudy when they began winding their way through Volterra's cobbled back alleys. The weather was such that no one needed any significant outerwear, but the Volturi guard wore their cloaks regardless, looking terribly out of place compared to Alice and Bella and the few human natives who were out for after-dinner strolls.

Demetri and Alec and gone ahead to announce their arrival to whomever was there to receive it, while Jane led the group and Felix trailed it.

"Is this your first time in Italy?" Alice asked, trying for the nth time to break Bella's brooding silence.

"No," was the curt response.

"Really?"

There was genuine surprise in her tone – such a rarity with Alice – and her golden eyes widened.

"I visited once as an undergraduate for a summer language program, then spent a year here between my undergraduate and graduate programs to teach English and learn Italian... and another summer and semester during my third year at U of I to conduct research for my dissertation."

Felix, who had been eavesdropping, and walking much closer than Bella had realized, gave an amused little snort and joined the conversation, "Did you ever visit Volterra, Miss Swann?"

"No, I knew better," again, her tone was flat despite her forthcomingness, "Carlisle told me after Edward died that your lot thought I was dead as well. He suggested that I not do anything to convince anyone otherwise. I figured I wouldn't risk running into any of you, even if there was a chance that I wouldn't be recognized immediately."

"A human with sense," he mused, giving Alice something akin to a smile; it wasn't returned.

"Plenty of us have sense," Bella said through clenched teeth, not particularly fond of the large vampire although she had nothing to hold against him personally, "but I suspect after a few centuries of eating only the ones who don't, a vampire might begin to underestimate its prey."

"Touche, although, I will argue that our tourists are mostly North Americans," he was being surprisingly good natured but smug, his crimson eyes only flickering in Jane's direction once. Of his current companions, she was the only one whose response he feared.

"Because Europeans find Volterra common and too far out of the way and South Americans, if they can afford to travel, have more glamorous destinations in mind. Would you like me to start on the Asians?"

They walked in silence after that, as it was clear that, while Bella was the one with the least agency in the group, she was certainly not going to allow anyone to force her to speak. She was tired, a kidnapping victim of a group of supernatural beings, and clearly being led in a series of complicated and unnecessary circles around the innards of the city.

People were beginning to move inside and the sun had set completely when a cloaked figure approached Jane and began to speak. The group had stopped before a clock tower in Volterra's main square, with Alice, Bella and Felix standing several metres from the others.

"It's Demetri," Alice stated, easily able to hear the hushed conversation, "and he says that they're ready for us now."

"Oh. Goodie."

"You seem to be taking this all in stride."

Bella blinked once, "Terminal cancer. Vampires. Spontaneous flights to Italy. What's there not to take in stride?"

Jane had turned and was walking toward them now, her eyes glinting red under a streetlamps, and Alice spoke quickly, "Bella. I _am_ sorry. For everything that is happening to you. It isn't fair, but please, you need to trust me. Now more than ever, you just need to trust me"

"How can I, when your skill is imperfect," Bella said, so cruelly that even she was stung by her words. Alice's face twisted as if she was experiencing the physical pain of an old memory, and Bella relented, "That wasn't right...I didn't mean it that way...Sorry."

"No, you _are_ right..."

"...you just haven't been entirely forthcoming, Alice, and you've lied to me. At least twice, now, maybe more."

"I was afraid you wouldn't agree."

"At least it would have been my decision."

Jane was close enough now that the derisive look on her young face was easy to see in the dark. She stopped and gave each of them a once over, "News of our arrival has caused quite a stir among the coven. We will go quickly, and you will remain quiet until spoken to. Is that understood?"

Alice nodded, and Bella sighed, aware that that speech had been largely and reluctantly for her own benefit, "Yes."

"Very well," Jane made an abrupt about-face and stalked into the shadows.

Felix drew closer and carefully gripped Bella's arm and said by explanation, "You will be unable to see well."

"By all means, manhandle me. That's what you've all been doing since we met."

But he was far more gentle than Bella had expected him to be, guiding her with nudges through the alley rather than dragging her along. Alice's light footsteps could be heard ahead of them, and Bella used them to comfort herself with the knowledge that she wasn't entirely alone.

Someone else was facing judgement for the same crime.

When they finally came to a stop before an illuminated doorway, Felix's hold on her arm loosened but did not disappear.

"It'll be best if I carry you now," he said, "you could walk through the entryway yourself, but there will be a large drop you won't be able to make on your own, and it'll be better if we get through this as quickly as possible."

"Don't want to make them wait?" Bella asked, for once serious, having come to tolerate this vampire's presence in particular despite his brute size and inherent smugness. His treatment of her was not entirely deplorable.

"Precisely."

"Well, I can't stop you..."

"This is true," and he scooped her up without further hesitation, indicating with a nod of his head for Alice to go ahead before them.

The group traveled with inhuman speed through the interior of the building, much too quickly for Bella to identify any artifacts (she had to clench her eyes shut to prevent herself from growing nauseous). Nothing was said until Felix muttered a, "Going down" at her, and then there was a rush of air against her cheeks before they landed.

Mere moments later, she was set on her feet and instructed to open her eyes. Alice was waiting for her in front of a pair of large doors, and Jane was nowhere to be seen.

"Is this it, then?"

"Yes," said Alice, "don't be afraid."

"I'm always afraid."

The doors opened from within, and Bella caught her first glimpse of one of the most magnificent rooms she had ever seen. She had expected something more lavish than its spartan decor and stone walls, but its cavernous and circular architecture was breathtaking and drew her in without much prompting. Torches rather than electricity illuminated the hall, and they were placed in such a way to prominently display the three ornate chairs that sat in a row and the three ancient vampires seated upon them.

A number of vampires flanked the dias – Jane, Alec and Demetri were among them – silently paying witness to the show. Felix did not move to join them, but rather kept his place at the doors, his size insuring that they would need no other guard.

Remembering not to speak until spoken to, Bella allowed herself to be drawn toward those three imposing figures by Alice, whose cold hand had gripped hers tightly. They came to a stop just metres away from the nearest throne, but Bella could not bring herself to look at the man who it belonged to, to acknowledge the smile of the person who had ended what should have been Edward's very very long life.

Nor did she care to pay any attention to Caius, as Alice had already explain to her the fervor in which he seemed to embrace sadism.

Instead, she focused on the one she knew to be Marcus. His scarlet eyes were dull and while pointed in her direction did not seem to be taking her in, at least not entirely. Bella found comfort in his lack of interest and in the disconnect; of the three, he'd probably sooner rule to kill her than spare her, but at least he wouldn't prolong any torture.

Aro rose, his movements so fluid and frustratingly flawless that Bella could not put off looking at him any longer.

Up close, she could see that he stood out from the others not because he was beyond them in beauty but because he _wasn't_. His features although perfect were common and recognizable, as if they had been modeled from a Roman reconstruction of a Greek sculpture. The skin that covered them was so white it was nearly translucent, like it had been formed out of a finely crushed powder, just delicate enough to be scattered across the hall with only gust of wind. And while she had to admit that the milkiness of his red eyes was as arresting as it was disconcerting, Bella could not say that they were kind, no matter how hard he was trying to make it seem as if they were.

Like the others, Aro paid little mind to her. Instead, he grinned at and held a palm out to the vampire beside her, "Alice. It is lovely to see you again after so many years."

His voice floated, but there was an undertone wrapped in it that wanted to drag it down. It took Bella too long to realize that the strange weightiness was actually a command, and by the time that she had, Alice had already released Bella's hand to place her own in his.

During the flight, Aro's skill had been explained to her only very briefly. Bella now knew why Alice had not loitered on the subject – the very notion of someone having access to every thought and every feeling that had ever made an impression on your memory was unsettling. Bella swallowed thickly as Aro drew Alice closer and clasped both of her hands in his, his dark head bowing over them as if in deep thought or even prayer.

She felt a pang of jealousy that he could see her own future if he wanted to.

Aro released Alice with a slight bow, "Yes, very good. That will be all for the moment."

His distinct eyes settled on Bella then, and the thoughtful quirk of his brow gave the impression that she reminded him of someone, and that if he thought hard enough a name might eventually fall from his mouth. This was ridiculous, of course, because he would have already been told who she was and why she was here.

Then he smiled, a radiant little thing that lit up his face with mania, and Bella was quickly struck with the realization that one did not exist for nearly three thousand years without going at least a little mad.

"Isabella," it rolled a little too thickly off of his tongue as he took another step closer, bringing his hands together in a silent clap, "You are alive, after all."

"Bella, just Bella, please."

"Bella. Bel-la. Come here, just Bella," he extended one of his broad palms again and took another step, so close now that she had to move back.

He mistook her hesitation for mistrust and attempted to goad her with another smile, "I've...heard so many things about you."

When had this _hearing_ had occurred. Was it when he had executed Edward or since? Both? And this all seemed like too much trouble for a single human. Why the flight and the fanfare? The interest in a human being who only had five months left to live?

Bella found herself openly glaring at him for being so transparently disingenuous.

From her side, Alice shook her head and gave Bella a gentle nudge forward.

That nudge, though meant to be helpful, caused Bella to stumble. When she caught herself, it was only to find that had Aro had appeared before her, less than a foot away, his hand still held between them in a beckoning manner and his smile strained over a row of perfect teeth. His eyes flitted slowly down her figure, letting her know that he was looking, and his nose scrunched as if he found her all very distasteful. Literally.

"Please," Aro stressed in a way that indicated it was not a request but a demand.

Bella did as she was told, but instead of placing her palm over his, she grabbed his hand as if to shake it, and ignored the bemused quirk of his brow. The skin beneath her fingers was cold and strong, its powdery quality reminded her of slate rather than dust, and she wondered if it would flake off if she scratched her nails against it.

"Nothing," he murmured only moments later.

Around them, more than one vampire tensed.

Aro's milky gaze bore into hers, its expression an uncomfortable mixture of anger and intrigue. He neither released nor stepped away from her when he spoke next, "It's as though you are already dead."

The deliberateness of that phrase and the way he spoke it like it were only a little matter caused Bella to wince, as if he had struck her physically rather than emotionally with those words. Would no one give her the courtesy of owning her own illness? Or would they all continue to discuss it like it were the weather, trivial and only ever subject to change for the worse over time.

"I'm guessing I've done something wrong," she ground out a moment later, having to force the words through the tightness of her throat.

"Nothing wrong, just Bella. Something quite unexpected but nothing wrong," Aro released her and turned to his brothers, "This human is not only impervious to Jane's talents but my own as well. I suspect we are not the only two who cannot affect her."

Marcus stirred and cast a careful eye on her while Caius gave a bored sort of sneer, giving every indication that this meeting had not been of his own making. It was the former rather than the latter who spoke first,

"I see nothing."

"Nothing? Humans fancy themselves connected to everyone; you can't possibly see nothing," Caius' bored sneer carried over into his tone.

Despite the protest, Marcus waved his hand absently, "And yet I see only empty air."

Aro's resulting stillness was troubling and was met by Alice's gasped, "No!"

"Alice," he tisked, "don't be rude. I've only just made my decision on the matter; you needn't ruin the surprise."

"Surprise? What surprise" dread laced through the words, and Bella took a single step backward.

"You know that it's not right," Alice argued regardless.

"_Right_?" Aro hissed, his voice no longer floating through the air like a tethered balloon but slithering, and he raised his hand as if he wanted nothing more than to grip the young Cullen's throat, "This human has known of our kind for more than a decade, a fact your entire coven has hidden from me, and you find me _unjust_? The fact that you remain alive after such treasonous behavior is only a testament to my friendship with Carlisle."

He stepped away and turned his back to them, "The human is a danger to us. Turning her may lead to disastrous consequences if she cannot be tamed, and already I have seen that she is too willful. There will be no choice; she must be allowed to die."

"What?!" Bella's knees weakened. Only the arm Alice wrapped around her waist kept her standing.

They were going to kill her? Now? After all the trouble that everyone had gone through, all the trouble _she_ had gone through, to bring her here? She hadn't even been able to make her case?

"That won't be necessary, Felix."

Bella's head whipped to the right, where the large vampire had appeared quickly and silently, and tried to prevent her heart from stuttering to a halt right there. Felix was clearly perplexed by Aro's hesitation but not dissatisfied, and Bella questioned what he must be thinking. Was this all just a waste of time for him as well? Had he not enjoyed the idea of killing her?

"What do you mean, brother?" Caius challenged.

"The girl is dying – we can all smell it on her – and I see little reason to prevent the suffering."

Bella exhaled once through her nose as Alice gripped her hand. When Aro turned and noticed the gesture, he tilted his head, "Oh no, it's not quite what you think, dear Alice."

"It's exactly what I think," anger gave a sharp staccato to her usual melodious tones and a dangerous glint to her gold eyes.

Aro reached forward to stroke Alice's jaw and smirked, "Ah. It is, then."

"What's going on?"

The entire scene around Bella was narrowing, as if the hall and all of its inhabitants were being warped and squeezed into a single string of twisted thought, into something that the human brain could not experience all at once, and she couldn't comprehend any of it at all. Not really. Adrenaline, exhaustion and fear was turning this nightmare of hers into a delusion, and there was no telling if any of it would make sense to her again.

If there was any single reason she had left the Cullens behind her, Bella suspected the threat of this experience had always been a large part of it.

Aro was speaking again, slowly, as if to a child with a tenuous grip on reality, "Someone must pay for these transgressions, Isabella, and I'm afraid your Edward is not here to take responsibility this time."

"I-I don't understand. None of you have been speaking any sense all day," she looked to Felix who, if he had any compassion, hid it well.

Bored with her already, Aro spoke to Alice instead,

"Go," he ordered.

"Go, and," Aro's eyes skittered to Bella as the corners of his lips twitched upward, "leave the human."

It took the combined strength of Felix and Demetri to drag the struggling Alice away – Alice, who called out to Bella, but who Bella could not hear over the roaring of her own rapid heartbeat in her ears – and this time there was no one to hold Bella up when her knees gave way beneath her.

* * *

**Endnote:** Every time I think of this version of Bella (who we'll discuss at the end of next chapter), whose life has decided to just fold on her in a couple of the worst ways possible, I'm compelled to listen to a song. The 65daysofstatic remix of _Reading in Bed _is kind of mood setting, but for some reason it gives me a giggle. Once she gets over the really large hump of the universe seemingly being out to get her, I think we'll see a very strong woman emerge, but for now we'll let her grieve and gripe. I know I would.

Also, I think we need to add another genre to this piece. This Bella gets fairly snarky when she's backed into a corner, and I think humor is a byproduct of her anxiety.

**edit: **So, I have already been asked (in so many words) by a very quick reviewer why Aro is being mean to Bella if this is a romance between the two. Very good question and the confusion is understandable.

My answer: I'm of the opinion that Aro was so oddly nice (I don't know if nice is the right word, 'creepily interested' might be better) to Bella in the series for two main reasons. The first being that she clearly has a strong talent, even as a human. The second being that the love between her and Edward was a novelty to him (and Aro likes novelties). Only one of these remain in this timeline, and it is tainted by the fact that the Cullen's broke the Volturi law for ten years in order to hide her. In addition to this, dear Alice has only brought the truth to light in order to have Bella turned. I doubt any version of Aro takes kindly to being _used, _and I dare say most of his actions in this chapter were as much of a punishment for Alice as they were for Bella.

There is more behind his treatment of her, but I won't spoil the fun of having that come to light later.

(Also. He's just not a nice person. We'll work on him, though).


End file.
